


Pain and Regret

by Solanaceae



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Gen, Warning: Off-screen character death, also way too much parenthetical stuff, being a feanorian sucks, sorta disjointed narrative, this fic has odd formatting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-21
Updated: 2013-03-21
Packaged: 2017-12-06 01:41:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/730184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Solanaceae/pseuds/Solanaceae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some things never end. Some things can't end. Even if you try... you can't escape some Oaths. Fëanor's Oath drove him and his sons to their deaths, all but one. Oneshot. Maglor's point of view. Stretches from the Havens of Sirion (and Elrond/Elros being adopted by Maglor) to Maedhros' death</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pain and Regret

**Author's Note:**

> "Ilar thanyë, ilar melmë, ilar malkazon sammë, osta ilar harwë, lau Ambar tana, só-thauruvá Fëanárollo, ar Fëanáró nossello, iman askalyá ar charyá, ar mi kambë mapá, herá hirala ar haiya hatá Silmarillë." [from the Oath of the Feanorians, found online]: "Neither law, nor love, nor league of swords, dread nor danger, not Doom itself, shall defend him from Fëanor, and Fëanor's kin, whoso hideth or hoardeth, or in hand taketh, finding keepeth or afar casteth a Silmaril."
> 
> Maitimo: mother-name for Maedhros
> 
> Kano (Kanafinwë): father-name for Maglor
> 
> "And it is told of Maglor that he could not endure the pain with which the Silmaril tormented him; and he cast it at last into the Sea, and thereafter he wandered ever upon the shores, singing in pain and regret beside the waves. For Maglor was mighty among the singers of old, named only after Daeron of Doriath; but he came never back among the people of the Elves."
> 
> -From _The Silmarillion _by J.R.R. Tolkien__

These children, the sons of Elwing, were the last two alive, even as the two Noldor were the last of their brothers. One held the other close, glaring up at the tall brothers with defiance and no small amount of fear in his dark eyes. Around them were the crumpled bodies of all those they knew, their kin and friends. Maedhros stood before them, sword held in a trembling hand, the silver blade streaked red with blood. In his eyes was regret for the murder he had to do, the murder he had already done.

_(ilar thanyë, ilar melmë, ilar malkazon sammë,_ _osta ilar harwë, lau Ambar tana,_ _só-thauruvá Fëanárollo, ar Fëanáró nossello)_

Not even children were exempt from that oath of vengeance.

_(_ _iman askalyá ar charyá, ar mi kambë mapá,_ _herá hirala ar haiya hatá_ _Silmarillë)_

_(neither law nor love nor league of swords...)_

The eldest son of Fëanor raised his sword and closed his eyes. Of all the deeds of bloodshed, was killing a child the worst? Or had the first murder been the worst, there in the lamplit quays of Alqualondë, so long ago?

Maybe they were all the worst.

Maglor's hand closed around his brother's wrist. "Stop. Stop it, Maitimo." His words were clear and cold as ice, stern as stone. They came as a shock. Maedhros had not heard his brother's approach.

The taller Elf turned and looked into his brother's eyes, something burning in them, but Maglor shook his head.

"I will not allow you to kill these children."

And they were so like those two long ago, the two that they could not find in the forest, only this time it was Maglor begging for them to be alive. These two were maybe even a bit younger ( _but they're the same, in a way they're all the same_ ) and maybe that was part of why they had to live.

"Why should these two survive when the rest have died?" His brother's voice was a whipcrack of anger and pain. Maybe he, too remembered Elwing's brothers. Maybe he saw Eluréd and Elurín in these faces before him.

_(not Doom itself shall defend him from Fëanor, and Fëanor's kin)_

"Maitimo... please."

He had no doubt that that was anger there in Maedhros' eyes, anger that burned like fire mingled with that same terror that Maglor himself felt- that terror of an Oath unfufilled. "Would you cherish their lives as though in penance for those you have taken? Maybe are these a replacement for the brothers we ourselves lost today?" Maedhros' voice is hard, his face set as though craved of stone. "Or had it escaped you that the Ambarussa also fell this day?"

_(they fell they died for something vain)_

_(their deaths were meaningless)_

"I seek no absolution, Maitimo," Maglor whispered. "I only wish that you spare these children."

Maedhros spared the twins one glance and in his eyes was all the pain and regret and horror he had seen, this day and all his days here in Middle-earth. "Keep them, then," he spat. "They will hate you in the end.  _And they will be right to_." With those words he turned and strode from the bloody hall, bootheels tracking on the marble floor the blood of those he slew in that place. He did not let his brother see the tears that fell from his dark eyes.

* * *

_(this is him)_

The two boys were so alike to Maglor and Maedhros, yet so different. They had none of the darkness that trailed the two Noldor, the darkness that seemed to penetrate every facet of their lives now. But the love that Elrond and Elros had was the same love that bound Maglor and Maedhros to their father and their brothers.

_(this is my brother, these are my brothers)_

That love drove them to the Oath, that Oath drove them unto death.

__(they are the ones who died for me, the ones who I would have died for had they only asked)_ _

_(and how I wish they had asked)_

Was this how it was? Love unto sworn word unto death? Perhaps love had ever been the most dangerous weapon. It had always been the one to claim the most from those it used. Would the world end because of love, not hate?

_(the ones I killed, the ones that killed me)_

_(my brothers)_

* * *

"All these deaths, and for what? We have yet to even touch one of the Silmarils, let alone hold one. Can't we stop? Can't we end this, Maitimo? Don't you see how hopeless this is?"

"It will never end. And who do we have to blame for that but ourselves?"

"We started this. We can end this. All this bloodshed, all this darkness... it  _can_  end. Don't you believe me?"

"It's never going to end, Kano. We swore an oath."

"Then break it, Maitimo. Break our oath. We cannot live like this anymore. This has gone too far."

* * *

_Oh, Eru, it burns._

The Silmaril was beautiful, the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. It was beautiful even as it burned him, burned the hand that was unworthy of holding it.

_(only the pure may hold this)_

He was no longer pure. How many had he killed, how much blood had he spilled to reach this?

_(no hand of evil, no thing unclean, shall touch these the Silmarils of Fëanor)_

His hands were burning.

_Varda,_ _have mercy on us._

_(will this ever end?)_

It had ended.

* * *

"If we break this oath now, we render all their deaths meaningless. Would you have that? Would you go to the Halls of Mandos and tell our father and our brothers that they died for nothing, Kano?"

"They did. They  _did_  die for nothing. Their deaths were meaningless, and if we continue on this path then we will die as well. And our deaths will have no more meaning than did theirs."

Silence, then: "So be it."

* * *

_(have no doubt, that is fear in his voice, but it is fear mingled with determination and hatred of the world that has forced them to this, despair for himself and his brother)_

He loved his brothers, and maybe that was why they died, and why the Noldor fell. Because the sons of Fëanor followed their father for love, did they not?

The blood on Celegorm's armor. Caranthir's dark eyes staring blankly up at the sky above with the sightlessness of death. Curufin on the funeral pyre, wreathed in flame, his body falling to ash as did his father's.

_(all of them)_

The Ambarussa, Amras burning with the ships and Amrod throwing himself into death at the swords of Elwing's people, for in the end neither twin was willing to live without the other.

_(and the ones that fell beneath your own sword, too many to number)_

_(you are alone)_

Maedhros' eyes alight with terror and pain and no small amount of insanity, cradling to his chest the radiance of the fire that burned his hand, falling, falling into flame, fulfilling his Oath in one final act of desperation and despair. The fire was all that was left to him, now, and so it ended for the eldest of the seven sons.

_(can this blood be burned from our hands?)_

But it did not end for Maglor, though he wished for the oblivion of nothingness with all his heart.

_(you are alone)_

* * *

"And what is left for us, Maitimo? What do we have now? Only the Oath. Only the Oath and death."

"Oh, Kano. Can't you see? That's all we've ever had."

 


End file.
